


Fried Chicken

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: -burning elmo gif-, Blind Date, First Kiss, M/M, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 04:31:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17953646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: So his blind date turns out to be someone he knows, but there's a certain satisfaction in getting to know each other in a different way.





	Fried Chicken

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by [this tumblr post](http://karasunovolleygays.tumblr.com/post/178367302526/bi-velociraptor-i-was-scrolling-on-instagram-and). Also, I am garbage for iwadai.

“Party for Sugawara?” Daichi says to the well-dressed restaurant hostess, who lords over a giant book that looks far too imposing for something that houses dinner reservations.

The hostess, whose name tag identifies her as Takako, smiles wide at him and bows. “Of course. Right this way, sir.” Takako guides him through a sea of tables, and as they approach one in a moody-looking corner of the dining area, Daichi’s throat tightens when he sees a dark head of hair sticking up over the top of a menu.

He isn’t sure how, but Daichi knows this has to be the guy Suga set him up with and he has never felt such a powerful urge to flee in his entire life.

However, Takako plows on, and as he suspects, she stops in front of that very table and gestures toward the open seat. “Here we are. Your server will be with you shortly. Enjoy your evening.”

Daichi nods, the motion guided by years of social graces hammered into him by his mother. Maybe she’s there somewhere, moving him along like a marionette and compelling his strings to move toward this entirely insane blind date.

Fingers tighten around the edges of the menu, and Daichi relishes the brief flash of relief that he’s not the only one who is nervous. Maybe this guy will be all right. His hair is kind of messy, and not in the pretentiously dishevelled way twenty-something celebrities go for. His fingers look tanned, so he probably spends plenty of time outdoors.

His bravado fortified by these desperate scraps of encouragement, Daichi clears his throat and says, “Uh, hi, I’m —” The menu lowers, and a familiar face — one he sees every morning when he wakes up and every night before he crawls into his bed — sits behind it. “Oh my god.”

Iwaizumi Hajime, his roommate in his college dorm, gapes at him. His face contorts with a variety of emotions, none of which Daichi is currently brave enough to put a label on. Finally, he says, “Well, this is really damn awkward.”

“I know!” Daichi sits opposite Hajime, and he crosses his arms on the table so he can bury his face in the fabric of the least terrible suit a college guy can afford. “I’m going to kill Suga,” he moans, the sound muffled by his sleeves.

Hajime groans and drops the menu, scrubbing his face with his hands. “Yeah, so this is, uh, not the way I wanted to do this, Sawamura, but here goes. I’m kind of, uh, into guys and, you know . . . stuff.”

Daichi can’t help but chortle at the awkward confession. “Same.” He perches his chin on his crossed arms and looks up at Hajime’s red cheeks. “I mean, I like girls, too, but both are my —”

Moaning, Daichi drops his face back down. “Ah, what the hell. Why is this so weird?”

“Because we’ve seen each other in our underwear, genius.” Hajime reaches for the glass of water next to him and guzzles it. “How did we not know? Isn’t gaydar supposed to be a thing?”

Daichi snorts. “I wish. I’m terrible at that kind of thing. You could be flirting with me right now, and I wouldn’t even notice.”

“So I guess we’re both useless gays.” When Daichi glances up in question, Hajime shakes his head. “It’s something Oikawa says. People who are, like, super bad at picking up the signals that someone is into them because they just assume that other person is straight. Useless gays.”

Stifling a laugh with his sleeve, Daichi sighs. “I can’t even deny that. I’ve never even been on a date with a guy before. Too afraid I’ll fuck up and ask someone who isn’t into that.”

Hajime’s face drops onto the menu and he huffs. “I feel that. When Oikawa said he had a friend here who was interested in maybe going out for a date, I should’ve known something was off about it.”

“Wait, what?” Daichi sits up straight, blinking as his mind spins into action. “Suga told me the same thing.”

Irritation clouds Hajime’s eyes when he looks up. “That son of a bitch. I’m going to wring his stupid giraffe neck.”

“Same.” Daichi picks up his own menu and turns the pages a little rougher than necessary, not seeing a single word printed on them. “You wanna get out of here?”

Hajime drums his fingers on the table. “Well, uh . . . yes and no. I’m starving right now, but I know neither of us can really afford this place. I’m broke as fuck as so are you.”

“Oh thank god.” Daichi absently itches his skin under the suit, the cheap fabric irritating flesh far more used to t-shirts and hoodies. “Let’s go get something from the place down the street. The one with the really good chicken.”

At that idea, Hajime beams and Daichi can’t help but be very, very aware of how it transforms his entire being. “I can get behind that.”

Both of them look around, and when the coast is clear, they slip out of the back exit onto the patio, the autumn air crisp and a relief for Daichi’s discomfiture. One at a time, they jump over the ornate wrought iron fence and away from a place neither of them would’ve chosen for the other.

For the first time all night, Daichi feels the ease of their usual camaraderie fall into place and the tension from earlier slip away.

 

***

 

“You are such a stick in the mud,” comes Suga’s voice, tinny through the speaker phone.

Daichi rolls his eyes as he pores over his calculus notes. “Just because I’m more interested in not failing my courses than dating some rando, it doesn’t make me a stick in the mud.”

Suga snorts. “Actually, it does.” He can hear Suga shift positions, and Daichi can almost see him lying on his stomach, idly kicking his feet in the air. “You’re a college man now, Daichi. Live a little. If you don’t find someone besides yourself to get you off here and there, you’re gonna go insane.”

Hiding his face despite being alone in the room, Daichi rasps, “Damn it, Suga, don’t say stuff like that. You make me sound like a perv.”

“Jesus, Sawamura, you’re impossible.” Suga clucks his tongue and harrumphs. “I promise, the guy I’m setting you up with is legit. You and him share a lot of interests, and he’s actually really good-looking. You’ll like him, I promise.”

Daichi wants to punch the little traitor in his brain that jeers at him to accept the offer, but another lobe of his brain marks that it is Saturday night and he’s in his room doing homework instead of doing . . . whatever it is that guys his age do at college.

“Damn it.” Scrubbing his face with his hands, Daichi relents. “Fine. I’ll go on  _ one _ date with this guy, but if he’s a creep, I’m going to kill you in your sleep.”

Suga lets out a warm peal of laughter. “Oh, trust me. Once you get a load of this guy, you’re not getting out of bed for a while.”

“Suga!” Daichi whines, but he can’t help but feel an energetic twist in his stomach as the prospect of finally meeting someone new manifests itself. He has to admit his sense of fun has exponentially expired as the school year wears on. It’s time to change that, and maybe — just maybe — one of Suga’s crazy ideas won’t turn out to be an utter fiasco. 

 

***

 

Daichi groans as he takes the piled-high tray from the server at the front counter of the fast food chicken place. “Oh, man, I’m gonna regret this for at least a week.”

Holding two gigantic sodas, Hajime shrugs, “Meh. I’ve seen you eat worse stuff than this and not explode.”

“I hate that you know that about me already.” Daichi closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Where do you wanna sit?” Hajime points out a sparsely populated corner booth and Daichi nods. “Why did we order so much?”

“Well, we got this much food for the price of a single plate at that fancy pants place,” Hajime says, and Daichi knows he’s right. “Oh, man, I’m not gonna want to eat for a week after this.”

With a hum of agreement, Daichi follows Hajime to the corner and takes a long drag from the straw nearest to him. Hajime gives him a strange look, but they sit down and Daichi’s eyes widen when Hajime takes the cup Daichi had just drunk from and meets his gaze while he takes his own hearty sip.

Something warm churns inside of Daichi, and for the first time all night, he hopes that indirect kisses are not the only ones he’ll be getting.

Their greasy feast forges on, with the two of them cracking up over shared stories of their respective best friends’ misadventures during high school. Hajime relates the time when Tooru tried to show off for the girls track team at Seijou and fell down a hill, and Daichi shares the time when he earned himself a trip to the vice principal’s office for setting off the fire alarm while dicking around with the basketball captain.

“So maybe you aren’t the put-together guy I thought you were,” Hajime says, hiding his chuckle behind his hand. “You’re a regular troublemaker.”

Daichi shrugs and eats half a chicken strip in one bite, relishing every empty calorie. He swallows and beams. “Yeah, I can’t even deny that. Babysitting dumbasses rubs off after a while.”

“Then how am I remotely well-adjusted after hanging out with Oikawa for fifteen years?” They both laugh, and Hajime perches his chin in his hand, eyeing him with an expression Daichi cannot quite name. “You know, I’m glad we did this. I mean, you’re a good roommate and we get along, but I never thought we’d, you know —”

“Work?” Daichi lets the rest of his piece of chicken drop unheeded on his plate. “You know, I was wondering if this is going to make things weird. What if this doesn’t go anywhere and we end up being exes sharing a dorm room like a shitty boys love manga?”

Hajime grumbles and slaps his forehead on the table. “Why did you make me listen to that sentence with my own damn ears, Sawamura?” His shoulders shake, and it takes a moment for Daichi to realize that Hajime is laughing. At him, the situation, or just in general, he doesn’t know. But when he looks up, forehead red and smile wide and toothy, Daichi’s heart wails against his ribcage. 

“We’ll be good,” Daichi says finally, his voice breathy like his sisters when she ogles her idol magazines, cooing over the newest pop stars who all look the same after a while. But that’s that, and this is them. The idea of Hajime sleeping near him every night takes on an entirely new flavor, and it’s one he wants more of. “Good,” he repeats, more sure of it than ever. 

Setting back into his own pile of food, Hajime says, “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

 

***

 

He can almost hear Tooru rolling his eyes. “Boring, Iwa-chan. Your excuses are boring.”

Crossing his arms, Hajime resists the urge to chuck his phone at the wall and relish the sight of it exploding to end this stupid conversation. “I’m not boring. You’re just being a nosy dick, Oikawa.”

“Is that anything to say to a friend who’s just trying to help!” Tooru blows a raspberry into the receiver. “I’m telling you, this guy is perfect for you. He’s all serious and grumpy like you are, but he also knows how to have fun when the situation calls for it.”

“I’m not serious and grumpy!” Hajime snaps, his tone most certainly serious and grumpy even to his own ears. “Okay, maybe the idea that you think you know what I want out of a date more than I do makes me slightly pissy. That’s a pre-existing condition and you know it. Stop trying to set me up with random dudes, Oikawa.”

Tooru sighs. “Hajime, please, I’m just worried about you.” Hajime stills at the rare sound of his given name on Tooru’s lips and not his usual infantile ‘Iwa-chan’. “You know that I’m aware more than most people what happens when you set your eyes on your goals and don’t look at anything else. Think of how much stuff passed me by because I didn’t think about anything but volleyball. I don’t want that to happen to you.”

Groaning, Hajime sprawls back on his lumpy dorm room bed and mutters, “God I hate it when you make sense.” He rakes a rough hand down his face. “Okay, you know what? Fine. One date. I’ll go on one date with this guy, and if he isn’t at least twice as awesome as you say he is, I’m going to punch you in the dick so hard you’ll be sitting when you pee for the rest of your life.”

Tooru squawks indignantly as he usually does when Hajime threatens to maim him for life, but a slow smile creeps across Hajime’s lips even as he listens to his longtime best friend lecture him on manners or some stupid shit like that. So maybe he’s actually kind of looking forward to this date thing. If this guy isn’t a total jerk, it might even be nice.

“Text me the details,” Hajime says finally. Getting ready to end the call, he adds, “Oh, and brush your teeth, you fucking monster. I can smell your breath through the phone.”

“Mean!”

 

***

 

Despite washing their hands at least three times, a fine sheen of frying oil lingers on their fingertips unheeded as their hands find each other between them while they amble back to the dorms. Neither of them remark on it, and Hajime is glad for it. 

There isn’t really a name he’d care to put to this feeling bubbling in him at the moment. Maybe he’s nervous because there is the possibility that they try and fail to make something of this night; maybe he’s anxious because he’s never kissed anyone before, let alone dated; maybe he ate too much and his body is punishing him for it.

Either way, it’s a feeling he’ll tie to Daichi and he can’t say he wants it to end. 

They take the long, long way back to the campus, skirting through the surrounding streets to pass by the neatly manicured trees and elaborate shop window displays, long dormant after the end of the business day. The roads are busy, but the sidewalks are relatively clear just like the night. 

Finally, however, they reach the familiar stretches of grass of the quad, and Hajime can’t help but feel a sense of loss that the night has ended, his fingers tightening instinctively around Daichi’s. They share a look, and he thinks Daichi might be thinking the same thing. 

Inside the room, they stare at each other with their hands still linked, and Hajime itches to make the first move. If he can figure out what the hell that is supposed to be, that is. 

Maybe he thinks too much, Hajime muses when Daichi beats him to it. The air whooshes from his chest when Daichi pulls him close, their mouths hovering close to one another. Either one of them can take that first step, that irreversible step into the unknown. 

This time, Hajime doesn’t let his brain get carried away, and he brushes their mouths together. 

As it turns out, kissing is awesome as hell and he hates that it’s taken him nineteen years to figure this out. After that, it seems like the rest of them knows exactly what they need to do. Daichi’s arms loop around his waist, and Hajime relishes the hard press of well-earned muscles against his chest. Hajime drapes his own arms over Daichi’s shoulders. He’s a few centimeters taller — not much by any stretch of the imagination — but it’s just enough to make the angle perfect. Their noses are in the way and he’s pretty sure he just bit Daichi’s lip on accident, but all of it painfully, wonderfully strange and perfect.

Tearing their mouths apart for air, Daichi’s forehead presses against Hajime’s as they pant. “So that happened.”

“Yeah.” Hajime cups Daichi’s cheeks in his hands and gives him a crooked smile. “Eh, Sawamura?”

“Hmm?”

“I think we should keep doing this.”

Daichi’s eyes are round as saucers, but he nods into Hajime’s grip. “I think you’re right.” Grinning against Daichi’s lips, Hajime moans into one more sloppy and satisfying kiss. 

He’ll be road hauled by hell hounds before he even considers admitting it out loud, but Hajime thinks Tooru might have been right. He does need to stop and smell the roses here and there, because college only lasts so long. And the more he mulls over it, the more those roses start to smell like fried chicken and Daichi.

 


End file.
